


California Dreaming

by EmrysBeard



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 50s Greasers, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Detective Noir, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Greasers, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:20:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22087054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysBeard/pseuds/EmrysBeard
Summary: Howard Stark was a multimillionaire, even if his money had been untouchable by even his wife while he’d been alive. Peter had worked along side Howard for quite some time, and he knew more than most about the inner workings of the Stark family. Some would call Peter lucky, yet that luck turned very sour when Mrs Stark returned home to find her husband had been murdered, causing Peter To become a suspect in the murder of Howard Stark.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Shuri
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. All the the Leaves are Brown

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say a huge thank you to WhiteCeilings for betaing this for me. They're amazing, you should totally check out their works! This story is inspired by the Outsiders and greasers of the early 1950s, but has no direct correlation to the book. I was also inspired by Knives Out which renewed my interest in murder mysteries and thus this story was created. On with the story...

In films, California is portrayed with sunny beaches and warm, glowing sand. It’s said to be the golden state because of the rolling, dry, summer hills, begging for water up above the sprawling Hollywood mansions. Yet for every dozen warm days, there is a storm, and it was on a cold, blustery, rainy Saturday that Scarlet Stark found the body of her husband. He’d been shot three times in the chest, each bullet impeccably aimed, each hitting a vital organ. The police stated that Howard had been dead for at least six hours, but it could have been more as Scarlet had only just arrived home from a vacation in Italy when she found him in his workshop.

Of course the newspapers all had a field day, conspiracies and suspects thrown around like leaves caught in the wind. Scarlet had been eager to tell the press how empty the manor seemed without her noisy husband marching through the halls, announcing a new invention. That didn’t allow the suspicions surrounding her to be dispelled, however, and though half the papers represented her as a grieving woman in a black veil, the other half were eager to point out the rumor that she had been Howard Stark’s maid before she’d been his wife, that she was younger than Howard’s own son, and that they’d wed only two years before Howard’s death. Changing her name from Wanda to Scarlet hadn’t been enough to change who she was; a destitute maid trying desperately to support her alcoholic brother, Bucky Barnes, who was struggling after coming home from the war. 

Despite the accusations against her, Scarlet appeared more than eager to call in detectives. When anyone bothered listening, Scarlet implored authorities to find the murderer. She stated that she did not feel safe at home, knowing that someone had killed her husband and could very easily come after her next. After all, Howard Stark was a multimillionaire, even if his money was kept behind the study walls of banks, untouchable by even his wife while he’d been alive. Howard’s son, Tony, seemed less than eager to be involved with the investigation, however he did appear in one magazine admitting that he believed in Scarlet’s innocence. Since Howard had been working on several top secret government projects at the time, investigators of the highest caliber were called in and, on February 25, 1951, the Stark murder investigation began.

*** 

“Hey, pass me that torque wrench, would you? Peter? Hey, Peter? Oh come on, are you daydreaming again?”

“Hm? Sorry, Shuri, were you talking to me?” Peter looked down as his friend sighed deeply, sliding out from under the hot rod to glare up at him.

“If you’re going to hang around here you might as well give me a hand. The torque wrench?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry... ” Peter grinned sheepishly, hopping down from the work-bench to kneel beside her and hand it over. Shuri simply rolled her eyes again and slid back under the car, humming softly.

“So,” she asked, voice muffled as she worked. “What’s got you so upset anyway?”

“Who says I’m upset?”

“When you’re this quiet you’re always upset,” Shuri replied. There was a beat of silence, and then she let out a soft noise of success, before sliding out and wiping her hands on her overalls. “I’ve got it, try the engine!”

Peter nodded, hopping in and turning the key. They were rewarded with the purr of the engine, to which Shuri grinned ear to ear.

“You’re a miracle worker,” Peter chuckled as he slid out of the driver’s seat. He moved to kneel next to Shuri, reaching out a hand to help her up so they could lean against the hood together. Their hands brushed and Peter cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest self consciously. 

“I’ve got a good assistant, when he doesn’t have his head in the clouds,” Shuri replied. She studied him closely before she demanded, “Spill, what’s on your mind? Come on, I can read you like a book. It isn’t Stark again, is it? Damnit Peter, you can't keep thinkin’ about this, it’s bad for you.”

“I mean… Well how can I not think about it?” Peter sighing, standing up to pace the garage. Despite the grease on his fingers, Peter ran his hands through his curls, mussing them and sending his hair every which way until Shuri reached out to stop him. She retrieved a cloth from the other side of the garage and used it to wipe first her fingers, and then his, clean.

“Peter, there’s nothing you could’ve done, no way you could’ve predicted this would happen,” Shuri told him in an uncharacterically gentle voice. “You were just his assistant, you couldn’t have known that he was in danger.”

“He was like a father after my own dad died,” Peter murmured. “He meant so much to me.”  
“And he wouldn’t want you crying over him. Now come here, you’re going to make me feel bad for him again,” Shuri let out a weak chuckle. Peter glanced up at the noise, startled for a moment, though he nodded agreeably and joined her on the sagging couch. He shivered a bit, and was thankful when his friend tossed a blanket around his shoulders, tucking it carefully. It was almost always cold in the garage. Something about the cement floor and walls kept it cool, even in the summer, but in February it was nearly frigid. Peter liked it, though, loved it, and there was nowhere he’d rather be than tucked up amongst the cars with the only friend he’d managed to keep in the last 17 years of his life. 

Some might say they were unlikely friends. After Peter’s parents’ death he’d learned what true poverty was as he was forced to live with whoever would take him in until Peter’s brother Steve came home from war. Meanwhile, Shuri had been royalty in Africa before the Nazis had forced her and her brother to flee to America. There was no clear reason for them to get along, and yet they had plenty of similarities if one looked close enough. Both were orphans, both lived with their brothers, and both were obsessed with finding out the way machines worked. Shuri was lucky that her brother was the owner in this mechanics shop as she could play around and fix cars on the weekends to her heart’s content. It was a win-win situation, as Shuri was utterly brilliant with anything that had an engine, and she loved helping out when the boys were out having lunch. Of course the shop really was a joint effort; the people who T’Challa employed felt more like brothers than colleagues. 

Of course there was Peter’s brother Steve (who worked at the shop when he lost too many races in a row), there was Bucky (who sometimes came in only half sober and still jumped at the smallest of noises), there was Thor (who had no need for money but was happy to rough it as if he was anything like the rest of them), and there was Loki (who couldn’t stand the place but needed a bit of cash on the side since his internship only covered so much of his college tuition and, unlike his brother, Loki hadn’t been left a cent when their father passed away). They were an unlikely crew, but they were like family.

“So,” Shuri asked as she popped the cap off of a bottle of soda. “Have they told you when they’re gonna visit?”  
“I don’t think that’s how murder investigations work,” Peter chuckled weakly. “I think the detectives just show up or call you in whenever they feel like it.”

“Well they’d better phone first if they want to show up here,” Shuri replied easily. “Otherwise I am not cleaning this garage for them!”

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse,” Peter chuckled wetly as Shuri handed him a Coca-Cola. “They are detectives, after all. You keep this garage looking like a lab. It’s certainly cleaner than Mr Stark’s is… was, I mean.”

Peter sighed and set the bottle aside, but Shuri nudged him gently and offered him a smirk as she stated, “Look, he might’ve been a rich, white stiff, but he’d want you to move on. Sounds like his son has already.”

“Yeah, well Tony Stark was never much of a son,” Peter muttered, crossing his arms. “Mr Stark was always talking about how Tony was never home, how he regretted not being able to be closer with his son. Especially after Mr Stark married Wanda, he said Tony refused to ever be home. Even when he was home, he was awful to Wanda, and never even gave me a second look. All Tony and Mr Stark ever did was fight. Honestly I think that’s half of why Mr Stark kept me around, because I’d let him in when his own son pushed him out. I know they had issues, but Mr Stark was good to me, you know?”

Shuri studied him as she pulled out her pocket knife and fiddled with it absently. Peter simply hummed, pulling his knees to his chest as he looked away. Shuri sighed, stabbing the blade of the knife into the wood of the couch for safekeeping, before she turned to give Peter a hard look.

“My father always said that we must keep going, even when the ones we love are gone. Before we fled to your country, our father kissed us goodbye and told us that we should honor his memory, but not dwell in it,” she spoke firmly, giving Peter’s side a hard nudge. “Father said that living can still give stuff to the world and dwelling in the past leads to only sadness rather than success.”

“Wow,” Peter chuckled, raising an eyebrow despite himself. “You’re poetic today… anyway, you’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. It doesn’t make it go away.”

“No, but it starts the road to healing,” Shuri replied softly. The two jumped when the door snapped open, though Peter simply chuckled when a tall, broad man hopped into the garage with a grin spread across his face.

“My car, is it running?” The man grinned. “Ah, there she is, the beauty.”

“Yup, she’s up and going Thor,” Shuri smiled, tossing over the keys. Thor caught them easily, grinning as he gave the hood a pat. 

“What was wrong?” He asked, slipping into the driver’s seat and revving the engine several times. He let out an enthusiastic whoop as the room was filled with the smell of gasoline, and Shuri laughed as she waved the fumes away.

“Man, it was just a tear your transmission fluid, probably from your last race. It took about two seconds to find and fifteen minutes to fix. I really don’t know why my brother keeps you around,” Shuri joked, hopping up to give the hood a pat, and Thor cut the engine with a laugh.

“Because I’m fun!” He grinned. “You two wanna go out for’a ride? I’m headin' down to the strip to meet up with some'athe boys.”

“What? And drag these two kids into the station with you? They can’t afford the bail,” a voice from over by the stairs replied, and Peter chuckled softly as Thor’s lean brother slid into the garage, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh come, Lokes, I won’t be goin' to the station again!” Thor announced, winking at Peter when he thought his brother wasn’t looking.

“And why’s that? Because you’re going to quit going 120 on the highway?” Loki drawled. He kicked off from where he was leaning against the door frame and slunk over to perch himself gingerly against the dirty couch. 

“No!” Thor’s laughter rolled across the garage. “Because I’m not going to get caught. Ah well. You two should come to the race! We’re meeting outside of town tonight at eight. And Peter, it isn’t a school night! There’s no way your brother can come up with an excuse to keep ya home.”

“Maybe,” Peter chuckled softly. “I dunno, we’ll see. I think now's the time I want to be staying out of trouble.”

“What trouble?” Thor grinned. Shuri marched over to pull open the doors to the garage, and it was in a light layer of smoke that Thor reversed out of the garage, leaving behind him the smell of burning rubber.

“One day my brother is going to get himself killed,” Loki spat softly, tossing his leather jacket to the side and glaring after him. He bit his lip though when he saw Peter flinch, and Loki glared at the ground as he murmured a soft apology.

“It’s okay,” Peter smiled weakly. “I wish he’d be more careful too. Are you goin’ to the race?”

“I paid tuition fees last week and last time I checked I still need to eat, so what do you think? It’s not like I have any other good way to make money, nor will Thor think to lend me a cent. My brother only thinks about himself, and you lot when he’s thinking at all. Not that I mind, I get by. Anyway yeah, I’m coming to the race; I sure as hell am not betting on my brother, though.” Loki growled, heaving a sigh as he perched himself delicately against the edge of the couch. Shuri coughed softly as she pulled the garage door closed, and Loki offered a weak smile. “So, you got any work that needs done?”

“There’s a Plymouth whose engine won’t start. We’re pretty sure it’s electrical, maybe the starter since the wires there seem fuzzed,” Shuri hummed, grabbing a clipboard and flipping through the papers. “Peter and I are still trying to pinpoint how to fix it, though.”

“I’ll take a look, but no promises,” Loki offered. “I was up too late studying.”

“I can tell,” Peter chuckled softly. “I didn’t know if those raccoon eyes were from lack or sleep or if you got in a fight.”

“If I had gotten in a fight, I wouldn’t have a scratch on me,” Loki replied smugly, grinning lightly at Peter. His smile faltered, though, and he leaned a little closer to murmur, “How you doing by the way, kid? Tony told me that the investigation is starting… You need anything, anything at all, and I’ll be there. Got it? I’m sorry about him, by the way. I know what he said to you and Wanda, but he didn’t mean it. He was just drunk and upset. He just misses his mother, and I get that more than almost anyone… Look, Peter, I’m going to be here for you, okay? I know how hard these things are.”

Loki looked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stared at the wall. When he spoke again, his voice sounded both hard and ready to break. It was in a cracked murmur that he added, “I remember when we lost our father, Thor and I. It’s like there’s a hole inside you, a hole that doesn’t fill up… I get it, kid, really I do. You’ve had too much in the past few years, we all have.”

“You know what makes it worse?” Peter whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn’t even get a proper goodbye. I wanted to say so many things, and the minute I left that day I wanted to go back, but I didn’t. I wanted to change everything, but I didn’t. Tony was so awful to him, even if he didn’t mean it, and I didn’t even… Mr Stark, Howard Stark, was good to me despite everything, and I didn’t even give him a proper goodbye.”

“I know kid,” Loki gave Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. “I know, but your brother and I are going to be here for you, okay? You’re not alone in this. Got it?”

“Thank you,” Peter smiled weakly. “It means a lot. And Loki, please take care of Tony? Even if he did say some awful things, I know deep down that he wasn’t wrong… And Howard would want Tony to be okay.”

“I’ll watch out for him,” Loki confirmed gently. “I’m seeing Tony later. Now we should probably get to work, yeah?”

“If you want to get paid,” Shuri teased, shoving Loki forward. “Come on boys, the car’s over here.”

Peter found his smile again as the three of them made their way over to the car. It was a beauty, and Peter ran his fingers delicately along the side as he thought about Mr Stark’s Cadillac being left untouched in his garage. Besides Thor’s Jaguar, they never saw nice cars around here. In fact, they never saw nice anything. This was the way of life, fixing cars and hoping you’d make enough to keep food in your pantry and ciggies in your pocket. Times were never great, but they’d been getting better. Peter had almost believed things would turn around, and then everything had come crashing down around him, starting with the death of the only one it seemed who could change things.

“You’re thinkin’ again,” Shuri called, and Peter blushed as he hurried to begin fiddling with the starter. Things weren’t good now, but maybe they’d look up. After all, Wanda would inherit the money from her late husband which she could put towards her brother’s psychiatric treatment, and maybe even share with the rest of them. Yes, right now things were bad, but Peter had hope that at least Howard Stark’s death wouldn’t be for nothing.

They worked through a good part of the afternoon, but just as they were finishing up with the starter there was a familiar series of three honks, and Loki broke into a half smile.

“Guess my ride is here,” he grinned. “I’ll see you at the race, kids.”

Peter looked up to see a familiar red sports car in the street, and he offered Loki a weak smile as the man zipped up his leather coat and jogged down the driveway. He leaped into the passenger seat and shared a deep kiss with the driver, who pulled down his sunglasses and gave Peter a hard look. Peter swallowed and looked away, and with a squeal of tires the two of them were gone. 

“Is it wrong that I hate that they’re dating?” Peter mumbled. “And it’s like Tony doesn’t even care that his father is dead.”

“People grieve differently,” Shuri muttered, glancing up. “But it isn’t wrong. Tony Stark seems like he’s just as much of an ass as his father. Hey, come on, help me finish up here.”

“They aren’t, weren’t, I mean Howard was nice to me,” Peter sighed. “But yeah… I really don’t understand Tony. I don’t know if I ever will.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The raceway outside of town certainly wasn’t the prettiest, but it was the most easily accessible by local kids with nothing better to do. Whenever the racers used it, they knew they’d get a good turn out and tonight was no exception. The air was littered with the smell of popcorn and gasoline, and laughter filled the air as engines revved and lights flashed. The lights placed around the track gave the light fog an almost beautiful quality, yet Steve had a deep frown on his face as he pulled on his jacket. 

“What, did your dog die? Or wait, better yet, your brother? Isn’t he in jail by now or is he still running around here somewhere with a lollipop?” a voice behind Steve laughed, and the racer turned to cross his arms and glare at the group standing behind him. The man in front, a sneering guy with a cigarette between his fingers, laughed as he tossed the Camel at Steve. The blond’s jaw tightened, his upper lip pulling back to tell the boys off. Before he had a chance, another boy with dark hair hopped out of his car and crushed the cigarette under his heel before spitting at the group of three.

“Get lost Rumlow,” he growled. “Don’t you have a race to go lose?”

“Watch it Barnes,” Rumlow’s friend on his left spat, though Brock’s hand on his shoulder pulled him to a stop. Rumlow stepped forward, snatching a handful of Bucky’s black t-shirt in one fist as a switchblade appeared in the other. He sneered when Bucky flinched, and flicked the switchblade at his cheek for good measure. 

“I know why you have Rogers race for you, Barnes,” Rumlow spat softly. “I told you before you left school that one day you’d end up a drunk, just like your old man. Not so mighty now, are you? But then you were always soft, weren’t you Barnes?”

“Hey, lay off!” Steve growled, his jaw tightening further as Rumlow simply laughed, giving Bucky a shake. He pushed the switchblade against Bucky’s skin, a droplet of red dribbling down his cheek, but Brock was stopped when a nearby car door slammed. The boys looked up to see Thor leaping out of his sports car, a cocky grin on his face as if he was unaware of the standoff.

“Hey!” Thor called, sauntering forwards and getting between Rumlow and Bucky. “You haven’t even lost yet, Rumlow! Leave the competition for the raceway. How ya doin’, Steve? You ready for a good race?”

Rumlow rolled his eyes, but gave Bucky one more hard shake before he snapped his blade closed. The boys knew better than to truly fight when Thor was around. Despite the way officers constantly pulled him over for tickets, everyone knew that Thor was the only one of them who officers would take seriously. If Thor ever saw someone truly being violent, he had every power up his sleeve, every connection needed, to get them in serious trouble. For that reason, Rumlow nodded at his friends and the three of them turned to march away. Steve watched them go with narrowed eyes, though he forced a small smile as he turned to Thor and shook his hand.

“I’m hoping for a win,” Steve admitted. “There’s a lot going on right now, it seems like. I know Pete wants to go to college, and I have no idea if the Stark Scholarship still holds, plus I don’t know if one of us will need to afford a lawyer... Anyway, it’s a bit slow at the garage. Could use a little cash.”

“I’ll have you know that I bet on you,” Loki chuckled as he slipped out of Thor’s car and tossed Steve a soda. “You’d better win.”

“All in good fun!” Thor squeezed Steve’s shoulder. He stood taller and tried his best to assume a casual pose against the car that made Loki snort in an utterly undignified manner. If it wasn’t for his leather jacket and slick hair, Thor would stand out like a sore thumb. He wasn’t like the other boys and everyone knew it. He liked to play it rough, but everyone knew that deep down he was a prep school boy. Thor crossed his arms over his chest as he declared, “Hey, bud, if you don’t win you might still get lucky. I don’t need the extra cash, man.”

“You win it fair and square, then it’s yours,” Steve replied seriously, squeezing Thor’s shoulder. This wasn’t the first time the other man had offered to help Steve out. Thor had plenty of money from his trust fund, but Steve simply told him the same thing every time he offered to help. “I’m not taking any handouts. Not now, not ever.”

“I’ll take it,” Bucky spoke up, smoothing his black t-shirt. If he was still rattled by the encounter with Rumlow, it didn't show. “And I’ll make sure Steve gets as much as he needs, no matter how little he wants.”

“Good man,” Thor grinned. “I’ll see you boys on the speedway!”

Loki rolled his eyes as Thor hopped in his car and went on his way, before he slipped over to Bucky and looked him up and down. 

“You alright Barnes?” Loki murmured. “I hate Rumlow even more than my brother, and that’s saying something. Thor may only share a tenth of his money with me, but at least he doesn’t go around being an ass.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky chuckled softly despite himself. “I just, uh… You have a good race, Steve. I’m headin’ out, okay? Tell me how it goes.”

Bucky flinched when a car at the track backfired, and Steve nodded, grabbing Bucky’s hand as if to shake it before pulling him in for a quick hug.

“T’Challa is waiting for you by the orange tree,” Steve told him quietly. “Be safe tonight, yeah?”

“Same to you,” Bucky nodded. “Don’t be stupid.”

“When am I ever stupid?” Steve laughed. The two gently shoved at each other and Loki coughed, pointing to the track where lights were beginning to flash.

“I’ll walk you over Barnes,” Loki spoke up. “We’d better hurry, the race is starting soon.”

Steve nodded, slipping in his car and bringing the engine to life. He was slow to roll onto the track, and smiled when he spotted Shuri and Peter sitting together, each with a bucket of popcorn in their laps. Peter waved, and Steve gave him a thumbs up before he revved the engine, stopping at the start line. 

Several people cheered, and Peter let out a whoop when the flag girl waved and the cars took off. Peter clapped when Steve quickly took the lead, his Chevy blowing dust into the other driver’s windshields as he swerved around a corner. Peter was still cheering softly as Loki slid into the seat beside them.

“Good to see you smiling,” Loki hummed, patting Peter’s shoulder. “Hope you love birds don’t mind if I take a seat?”

“Loki,” Peter hissed, which only made Shuri laugh and poked him.

“There’s nothing quite like a good race,” Shuri said, happily ignoring Loki's comment. “And Peter’s brother is the best, we all know it.”

“I wish Steve didn’t have to,” Peter admitted as the cars roared by. The air smelled of burning rubber, and Loki moved to cover his mouth as a wave of smoke floated over the audience. “He only does it to put food on the table, and after seeing Killian wipe out last week I hate to think what could happen… But even so he is good, huh?”

“The best,” Shuri nodded. “You think he could give me a ride home tonight? My brother took Bucky back to his place. We all know Bucky can’t stand the races, but I know my brother can make sure he doesn’t get carried away with his drinks…”

“You can always count on a ride home,” Peter smiled warmly at Shuri. “Thanks, you know, to your brother. Steve gets so worried about Bucky when he’s home alone, especially after what happened to Mr. Stark… Wanda’s lawyer said she shouldn’t touch the money until the case is settled, but Steve says Bucky needs help, you know?”

“It’s true,” Shuri muttered, her eyes firmly refusing to meet Peter’s. “Bucky isn’t getting better. Maybe if Stark hadn’t been so focused on himself, Bucky’s treatment could’ve started years ago… I’m sorry Peter, but it’s true. I know you cared about him, but he was a selfish prick at times.”

“Look, Mr. Stark would’ve given money over if someone had told him the whole story. I mean Bucky is Wanda’s older brother! Mr. Stark would’ve been happy to help. Steve and Bucky are just so stubborn, always refusing to take anything from anyone! Well, Steve is anyway. Bucky’s just too proud to admit he has a problem.”

“Yeah?” Shuri short muttered, focusing on the race. “Does that explain why Wanda practically cut Bucky off? Cut all of you off?”

“You’ve been listening to Steve too much,” Peter crossed his arms. “Mr. Stark didn’t make Wanda do anything. The press was trying to tear their marriage apart from the beginning, she only did what she had to to keep things together.”

“She was his trophy wife,” Shuri shot back. “Why else would he keep the money to himself instead of letting her have some? If she’d had the money, she would’ve spent it on her brother’s treatment, right? That’s what Steve says.”

“I… I dunno,” Peter admitted softly. “Wanda told me to never talk about Bucky to Mr. Stark. Mr. Stane, Tony’s godfather, never liked Wanda or me and I dunno if he even would’ve let Howard spend money on Wanda’s family. Mr. Stane always creeped me out. After Mr. Stane passed away in December, I think Wanda started considering telling Mr. Stark more, but then… Then Mr. Stark died and… Well it was too late.”

“I wish Thor could help Bucky, but he’ll never understand,” Loki cut in, lowering his handkerchief. “He was so detached from the war that he thinks it was all some big adventure for the soldiers. The way father talked you might almost believe that… It’s been five years since Bucky came home, you’d think he might be getting better.”

“I think maybe a little, but not enough,” Peter sighed. “Steve wants to send him to one of those doctors who will talk to him and get him good meds instead of the stuff they’d give him in one of those prison hospitals, but it’s just too expensive…”

“Well maybe when this whole investigation blows over then Wanda will finally be able to pay for her brother’s care,” Shuri pointed out. “Have you seen her at all?”

“No,” Peter admitted softly. “She’s staying in the manor away from everyone.”

“Typical,” Shuri snorted even as Peter gave her a light glare.

“Bucky talked to her on the phone and she said it’s what her lawyer said to do,” Peter defended. “She’s one of the primary suspects so she has to be careful, but… She didn’t do it, you know? She’s stuck in that big manor all alone knowing that her brother is so sick and she can’t even do anything about it… It isn’t fair. I just know she didn’t do it... “

“They’ll find out who did,” Shuri pointed out. “And then maybe she’ll finally come out of hiding.”

Peter nodded, smiling weakly as he gave his cheeks a wipe. He jumped when Loki elbowed him, cheering. 

“Rogers won!” He grinned. “No surprise there. Time to go collect.”

“Come on,” Shuri grinned, tugging Peter up. “Let’s go congratulate him.”

“I’ll catch up, okay?” Peter smiled weakly. “I just need a sec. I’ll be there, tell him good job for me!”

Shuri hesitated for only a moment before she dashed away, leaving Peter to stuff his hands in his pockets and sigh. He slunk behind the bleachers and leaned heavily against a pole buried deep in the mud. Peter was about to light a cigarette when a sound to his right startled him so much that he dropped his lighter.

“Who’s there?” He demanded as he grabbed his lighter, and he stiffened as a man slipped out of the shadows, his hands held up.

“Hey,” he chuckled, motioning to the lighter that Peter was holding out like protection. “You can put that thing away, I’m not going to hutcha. So, Peter Parker, right? This is what you do in your time off? Watch hooligans try to get themselves killed speeding?”

“Who are you?” Peter demanded, slowly lowering the lighter, though he stiffened when the man took a step closer. The man chuckled softly and took a step back again, nodding.

“Detective Barton,” the man replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He was a well built man with muscles that rippled under his rolled up shirt sleeves. A gun holster was tossed almost carelessly over one shoulder, though a glint in his eye gave the impression that no one would dare get close enough to grab the gun from him. “My partner’s in the car, why don’t we go for a ride?”

“I don’t know you,” Peter stiffened, taking a step away. “My brother will be missing me, I should get back…”

“You’re a smart kid,” Barton hummed, pulling his badge from under his coat. “Alright, let’s just talk over there, alright kid? Over by the orange tree.”

Peter hesitantly followed the man, swallowing when he saw Barton nod at an old car seated by the raceway. Another man in a hat and a trenchcoat stepped out and met them at the bench under the tree which Barton directed Peter to.

“Peter,” the other man tipped his hat, a warmer smile flickering across his face. He had a gentle look about him, from the kind way his eyes shone to the way his forehead crinkled slightly. He offered his hand to Peter, his handshake firm. “My name’s Detective Banner, but please call me Bruce. We were told we’d find you here. Can you talk now?”

“I… I guess,” Peter swallowed, chewing his chapped bottom lip as he took a seat at the bench. “Why now?”

“Why not?” Clint replied. “We were in the neighborhood and thought we’d drop by.”

“How’re you doing, Peter?” Bruce murmured, offering his sympathetic smile again. “You’ve been through a lot these last couple years, or so we’ve heard. This must’ve been a huge shock, kid…”

“It doesn’t feel real,” Peter admitted, wrapping his arms around himself and heaving a heavy sigh. “I still feel like I’m going to go back to Mr. Stark’s workshop and he’ll be there and we could just start working again…”

“These things are never easy,” Bruce agreed gently. “But you’re making it through this, and that’s what’s important. We want to have you come into the office soon, alright? But we wanted to meet you tonight first. Just help us best you can with this investigation and we’ll try to make it quick. You’re just a kid, you shouldn’t have to handle all this.”

“I just miss him, you know?” Peter murmured, looking away, his hands squeezed tightly in his lap. “I really, really miss him, and it’s hard to think he isn’t coming back… It’s just that we lost our parents seven years ago, my brother and I. It’s like it’s happening all over again now, you know?”

“What exactly happened to your parents?” Barton asked, studying Peter closely. 

The boy flinched a sort of panic flashing through his eyes before he murmured, “They were in a car accident on Mulholland. There was a rainstorm and I guess dad lost control… It was a long time ago, but I still remember that night. Sometimes I wish I didn’t.”

“Like I said, we’ll try not to prolong this investigation anymore than we have to,” Bruce nodded, casting a look at Barton. “But your information could really help us with this case.”

“I know,” Peter whispered, swallowing hard.

“Because you were there that day, weren’t you?” Barton murmured. “Earlier, before Mrs. Stark arrived home. It was on Howard’s Stark calendar that you were dropping by.”

“I was there,” Peter admitted softly. “For a little while. We were just working in the lab, like we always did. It was just a normal day, but… I wish I’d stayed longer, I just wish I hadn’t left when I did, maybe things would’ve been different…”

“You couldn’t have known,” Bruce murmured. “You couldn’t have done anything. It’s probably good you left when you did or we might have one less witness and one more case to solve.”

Peter nodded, biting his lips together and sniffling softly. He swallowed hard, pulling his jacket tighter as he murmured, “It isn’t fair that people have to die. That should’ve ended when the war ended.”

“I wish it had,” Banner nodded. “It isn’t fair.”

“Did you see anyone when you left?” Clint asked. 

“Just Mr. Hogan out watering the plants,” Peter murmured. “But Jarvis knew when I left too. I left kind of quick that day, but I saw him in the window when I grabbed my bike.”

“Mr. Hogan mentioned that you were upset when you left,” Barton hummed. “And Jarvis told us that when he went to check on Howard Stark that he was also upset, that he ordered Jarvis to leave the house. It seems Howard was having all sorts of anger of late and that this wasn’t the first time Jarvis had been told to go home...”

“Well his best friend had only died, like, a month before. Also his son, Tony Stark, was doing some things he didn’t really like. They never got on well, but they’d been really fighting ever since Christmas…. Plus Mr Stark had a big project that was upsetting him.” Peter swallowed, crossing his arms. “For clean energy, but he said that he didn’t think the government would like it. He told me that he needed to stop working on it… That day he went out to get us food from Jarvis and…. Well I wanted to see if I could help, you know? So I was going to look at the file, but before I could, he came back. He was so angry… Mr. Stark never got angry at me, but… Well we were both upset, so I left. I never got to say sorry, I never even said goodbye.”

“So you never saw what was in that file?” Barton raised an eyebrow before Banner could speak, and Peter sniffled again, shaking his head. Barton hummed, scratching something down on a notebook before he whispered something to Banner, who raised his eyebrows.

“When will you be able to come by the office?” Bruce spoke softly, studying Peter carefully. “You still in school?”

“Yes sir… I could come by Monday afternoon, though, if it helps.”

“Monday it is. Here,” Barton handed over a slip of paper with an address and a time. “We’ll see you there, alright?”

Peter was quick to nod, though Barton frowned as the boy scampered away. 

“You don’t really think he saw, do you?” Bruce murmured. “What was in those files Mrs. Stark gave us?”

“He isn’t telling the whole truth, you saw how he was fidgeting,” Clint murmured. “He knows something, and he knows that it’s incriminating. He’s a smart kid, and he’s keeping his mouth shut. He won’t be the only one in the office on Monday.”

“You want to call in Mrs. Stark as well?” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “They are friends, after all.”

“No,” Clint shook his head. “We know enough about that story for now. No, we need to see Peter’s reaction to someone we don’t know enough about. I’m calling in Howard’s mistress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on the last chapter! I love reading them. Also thanks again to whiteceilings for looking over this chapter. I wanted to focus on the greaser side of things for this chapter, but the real mystery will be coming up soon...

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think! We won't really get into the mystery aspect until around ch4, so for now you can enjoy our characters being plopped into the 1950s. I can't guarantee that my updates will be very fast as I'm pretty busy irl, but I do love greasers, the 1950s, and murder mysteries, so I'm very excited for this fic.


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